Time Strangers
by Phoenix-Talon
Summary: A reimagining of the season 3 finale. Less Hook, more Neal. This is a Swanfire story. This is for the fans who strongly disliked the season finale. Don't like it, don't read it!
1. Chapter 1

"You okay?"

Emma Swan snapped out of her reverie. Neal was looking at her cautiously, his eyes flicking between her and her new baby brother. She cleared her throat.

"Yup," She said firmly, pushing aside the painful memories of her foster home.

"You sure?" Neal repeated, crossing his arms. "Because…you know." He nodded towards the baby. Emma sighed. There had been so much guilt from her parents—guilt that they were having a new baby, guilt for feeling joy and excitement, so much guilt they treated Emma delicately, as if afraid she would explode. And honestly, the whole experience made Emma the slightest bit grateful that she had missed the majority of the pregnancy. Seeing David and Mary Margaret holding their tiny little newborn brought up painful memories, memories of her finally finding an adoptive family—until her adopted parents got pregnant and sent her back to foster care again.

Of course, she couldn't tell her parents that—why ruin such a happy occasion? But Neal knew, which was probably why he was eyeing her so carefully during the proceedings and kept asking if she was okay every five minutes.

She glanced down at her son, who was currently reading from the storybook to his uncle. "This story again?"

"My son should know where he comes from," David defended as Henry shrugged in response.

"And you want the first thing he knows is that his parents fell in love during an armed robbery?" Emma asked ironically.

"I wasn't armed!" Mary Margaret protested.

"Except with a rock," Ruby snorted.

"I still have the scar," David remarked.

"Which healed," Mary Margaret retorted. "That's just how we met. That's not how we fell in love."

"Besides, didn't you meet Dad while you were stealing a car that he stole first?" Henry cocked his head towards Emma.

Emma rounded on Neal. "You told him that?" She said in outrage.

"Uh…my son should know where he comes from?" Neal asked feebly and Emma resisted the urge to throttle him.

"What, should I have said I was a fireman and that we met over pie?" Neal ruffled Henry's hair affectionately.

"Well, you do have a weird obsession with pumpkin pie," Emma grumbled turning back to her parents, who were currently reminiscing about the Troll Bridge to the ears of the very attentive Storybrooke.

"You were previously betrothed, mate?" Hook asked David interestedly.

"To Kathryn," Ruby answered, gesturing towards the former princess, who was chatting animatedly with Granny. "Though, she was Princess Abigail back then."

"King Midas' daughter? The man who can turn anything to gold?" Hook raised an eyebrow. "Why would you leave that opportunity?"

Emma rolled her eyes and Mary Margaret voiced her offense.

"What can I say?" David smiled at his wife. "My heart was destined for another."

"You just had to find her first," Ruby snickered. "She ran away and was living on a farm."

Mary Margaret sighed with longing. "Oh, that sounded like such a peaceful life back then. Leave everyone and everything behind…"

"Like mother, like daughter," Hook said snidely.

Both Neal and Emma shot him an angry look. Henry caught it immediately.

"What's he talking about?" He wanted to know. Neal and Emma exchanged glances and David attempted to change the subject.

"Uh…should we read more stories?" He rifled the pages of the book, landing on an illustration of Baelfire.

"Actually, I'd like to know what the pirate is talking about," Regina announced, pushing her way through. Emma cleared her throat awkwardly.

"It's nothing," She looked at Neal for help.

"We can talk about it later," Neal intervened. "Let's just enjoy the party, okay?"

"No," Regina said icily. "We'll talk about it now. Are you planning on taking Henry back to New York?"

Henry's eyes widened. "Why would we leave?! This is our home!"

"Henry, Neal's right," Emma said firmly. "This isn't the time or place."

"I think it is," Regina said loudly and Emma stood abruptly.

"No," She said in a low voice. "It's not." She strode out of the diner, refusing to look at Henry's alarmed expression.

"I'll talk to her," Hook volunteered, making to go after her. Neal stepped in front of him.

"No, you won't," He said coldly. "This is between Emma and me." He noticed Regina out of the corner of his eye, step forward threateningly, about to interject until Robin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She fell back, looking suddenly vulnerable and Robin gave her a comforting hug.

"Look, mate," Hook crossed his arms. "I know you have a grand fantasy of running off to New York with her, so you can play house, but you know the truth, Baelfire. You know she shouldn't leave. This is her home. Storybrooke needs her, the people need her. She belongs here."

Neal exhaled sharply. "This isn't about what I want," He told Hook firmly. "This isn't even about what Emma wants. This is about what's best for Henry. If you—if any of you can honestly tell me that Henry's safer here, that nothing else bad is going to happen to us…" He looked at all of them challengingly. Regina took a deep breath that sounded a little shuddery, but she did not argue.

"I'll be right back," Neal ruffled Henry's hair.

"Dad," Henry said quietly, pushing the storybook into his father's hands. "Take this. It might help her remember where she belongs."

Emma stared off into space, idly watching the ripples on the pond. Try as she could, she couldn't seem to escape that expression of betrayal on Regina's face, the look of hurt on Henry's. After Zelena's defeat, everyone had assumed she'd stay—after all, with their returned memories and the witch safely locked away, what was to stop them?

We had a good life, Emma thought to herself, kicking a rock. A good life in New York. No running from ogres, no horrible curses, no magic…and Henry was happy. I was happy. …wasn't I?

"Hey."

She glanced up to find Neal taking a seat next to her, calmly handing her a cup of hot chocolate. She sighed impatiently.

"You here to tell me off?" She said challengingly. "Tell me I'm making a big mistake?"

"Not my call to make," Neal took a sip of his own drink, presumably coffee. Emma noticed the storybook on his lap and her eyes narrowed.

"We talked about this, Neal," She ignored the smell of hot chocolate, however tempting it was. "We agreed Henry was safer in New York."

Neal sighed. "Look, you're preaching to the choir, Emma," He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I've spent most of my life running from—well, this." He gestured to the town, adding in a sardonic flourish ala Rumplestiltskin.

"Thing is, no matter where I ran…this stuff follows. No matter how much we want to hide from our past, stay where it's safe…it'll follow you. I learned that the moment a crazy lady tackled me in New York and I looked up and saw you again, after all those years. I learned that the moment I found out you were the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, that I'd fallen in love with the product of True Love, the savior—and the moment I found out I had a kid." He took a musing sip of his drink and Emma glared at him.

"Henry's not safe here," She said firmly.

"I know that," Neal sighed.

"Do you know how it felt telling the kid his dad died?" She wanted to know and Neal winced. "I never, ever want him to have to go through that again. He was…he was so lost without you. He'd just gotten you in his life again, and…maybe he thought…we could have a second chance." She stared down at her lap, perfectly aware that her words were infuriatingly vague.

"Emma…" Neal lifted his arm awkwardly, perhaps intending on wrapping it around her shoulders, before thinking better of it. "Emma, I'd want nothing more in the world to go with you two to New York. To start over. But maybe it's time we face up to who we are. Maybe we should just—stop running, already. Our family…our family's here."

"Neal, do you know what I see when I look at this?" She picked up the storybook. "I see fairy tales. Stories, stories that I have no connection to. I was never a part of any of this."

Neal cracked a smile. "A lifetime ago, I was just a simple spinner's son," He flipped the book open to the illustration of Baelfire, looking forlorn. "When my father became the Dark One, I thought, why us? Why me? We were nothing special, just ordinary peasants—what did we do to deserve that curse? And you know, after all, when I finally got here—it was real nice, pretending to be a normal guy, living in New York, being engaged to a normal woman…you see how well that worked out."

Emma was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember what you once told me?" She asked softly. "About home? On the carousel?"

Neal broke into a smile. "I can't believe you remember that."

"Of course I do," Emma scoffed. "You told me that home is the place that when you leave, you just miss it. And honestly—I don't know if I've ever felt that. Except when—" She looked away from him.

The words were unspoken—Tallahassee. They'd never quite made it, but during their time together…hadn't that been home?

He took her hand, squeezing it gently. She swallowed, avoiding his gaze until something in the distance caught her eye.

"What the hell is that?!"

A swirling vortex of green rose above the town and Neal stared dumbfounded. "What the—"

"I'm going to check that out!" Emma shouted. Neal scrambled to pick up the storybook and went chasing after her.

The barn looked fair ready to collapse as green light shot into the sky. Neal stared at it grimly as Emma shut her phone.

"It's Zelena's time portal," She reported. "David left a message. Somehow, she died and triggered it."

"Fantastic," Neal muttered. "Another damn portal. C'mon—let's get out of here and find my old man. He ought to be able to shut it down."

"There's no time for that!" Emma argued. "We need to figure out a way to close it now! Before the whole town's sucked in!"

"We need magic for this," Neal looked as though he swallowed a lemon as he uttered the words. "You don't have your magic back!"

"We have to try! It'll destroy the whole town if we just stand here!" Emma broke away from him, pulling down the barn doors. There in the middle of stables, was a swirling green portal, sucking in everything in its past. Emma had a brief moment of discomfort, remembering her last experience with Neal and a portal—before she was yanked forward.

"Emma!" Neal shouted grabbing her hand. He tried to pull her upright the portal pulled him off-balance as well. With nothing gripping the ground, they both slid towards the center.

"Let me go!" Emma cried. "Let me go, get Gold! Get him to stop this, before—"

"No!" Neal yelled. "Not again!" He used all of his strength to try and heave her out of the portal, to no avail. They both slid headfirst into Zelena's portal.

"Oh, no."

Emma awoke to a headache and Neal's pained exclamation. They were surrounded by trees, birds making a cacophony of sounds, and Neal looked both thunderstruck and irritated.

"The Enchanted Forest?" She asked grimly and Neal nodded in response.

"Yeah, but when?" Neal wondered, taking a few steps forward. He stopped short, pulling something off a tree. Emma sucked in her breath.

Neal was holding a wanted sign—a wanted sign for 'the bandit Snow White'.

"Really?" Emma groaned towards the fates and Neal shrugged.

"Could be worse, all things considering. Trust me, the Ogre Wars were not a fun era," Neal picked up the storybook and flipped through it idly. "Henry was reading the story of how your parents met—think that directed the portal?"

"Is that how time portals work?" Emma wrinkled in confusion. "You're the son of Rumplestiltskin, you tell me."

Neal snorted. "You're the one with magic, you tell me."

"You fell through one!" Emma said triumphantly.

"So did you!" Neal returned and Emma threw up her hands in frustration.

"All right, all right!" She took the storybook form his hands. "Maybe the portal goes to wherever you were thinking—the bandit story about Snow was on both of our minds, right? Because Henry had been reading that story to the baby. So maybe we have to think of home to get home."

"Reasonable," Neal said cautiously. "Only thing is, we need a portal to get back and we've no idea where or when one will show up."

Emma groaned. "I should have left Storybrooke the instant we defeated Zelena. This is exactly the kind of thing that does not happen in New York!"

"Emma, relax," Neal examined the wanted poster with a scientific bit of interest. "We'll figure out a way to get back. Both you and me have gotten out of this land before—we just gotta stay positive."

"What do I look like, Marty McFly?" Emma demanded. "How the heck are we supposed to travel through time? I'm sorry, but I left the DeLorean in Storybrooke."

Neal coughed, covering up his snicker. A shadow fell across his face and he suddenly looked very grim. Emma caught the look and immediately realized why his mood had darkened.

"We're going to have to find Rumplestiltskin, aren't we," She said deadpan. Neal turned away from her, staring pointedly into the forest. For all of the issues Mr. Gold and Neal had worked through, there was still a great deal unsaid. Somehow, forcing Neal to confront the Dark One, the version of his father that had abandoned him, the sorcerer he'd been running from his entire life—didn't seem to be the best of ideas.

"Maybe we should find someone else," Emma suggested weakly. "What about the Blue Fairy? She was the one who sent you to our world originally."

Neal twisted his mouth. "No…I think you're right. I think we have to see my old man, right in his prime. Zelena was trained by Rumplestiltskin, he'd be the best person to figure out this time travel nightmare. We just—have to be careful."

Emma blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," He said anxiously. "The entire reason the curse was created was to find me. What do you think Rumplestiltskin would do if he knew that I was his son? We can't mess with the timeline. You've seen the movie—you mess with one thing, the entire future's changed."

"To be fair," Emma pointed out. "At the end of the movie, that stuff was changed for the better."

"Nevertheless," Neal's expression was grave. "We can't risk it. We can't risk anything that might stop you from being born, or us meeting, or Henry—we just have to find Rumplestiltskin and get the hell out of here."

They were interrupted by the sound of horses approaching. Neal grabbed Emma and pulled her into the bushes, hiding her from view. Black knights paused and Emma inhaled sharply, seeing a woman emerge from the carriage.

Regina.


	2. Chapter 2

"We have to help that woman," Emma said firmly, rearing forward. Neal's brow furrowed as he stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"What?" She demanded. "Are we supposed to let her rot or die?"

"Belle warned us about Zelena's spell. About how dangerous it was to mess with past events," Neal's fists curled. "I know it's frustrating, but we can't risk changing something that could damage our futures. And right now, there are more of those soldiers than there are of us—we don't stand a chance. If one of us gets captured or killed, we'll screw over the timeline. _Especially_ you—you're the Savior, remember?"

Emma looked back at the terrified woman. More than anything else, she wanted to tell Neal to shove it, race out into the fray, and rescue her. But this was Neal's home turf, not hers. She gritted her teeth.

"We need to find Rumple," She said finally. "And get out of here."

"Right," Neal nodded. "But first—not that I don't love the red leather jackets, but you and me stick out a little bit. We need to blend in." Casting one more reluctant glance towards the disappearing soldiers and the imprisoned woman, Neal led her further into the woods. Fairytale land seemed more _whole_ than her previous trip here—more trees, more birds singing, less like an archaic wasteland. It was unfamiliar. Luckily, Neal seemed to know where he was going, or at least looked more comfortable with the territory.

They came upon an old farmhouse that Neal said appeared to belong to a woodcutter. The residents didn't seem to be at home, so Neal swiftly stole several articles of clothing off their clothes lines, giving Emma a fleeting memory of nicking the same types of materials when they were together.

She changed behind a tree, into a peasant sort of dress with burgundy and cream colors. She tripped over the skirts a bit much, wished there had been a pair of breeches in her size, and noted critically that the top portion revealed far too much breast. The woman who owned it clearly had a longer torso than she did, but it would have to do for now.

"Neal, you ready?" Emma called out, stepping forward, adjusting herself. She blinked in surprise as Neal came out from around some bushes, sheathing a sword.

"Found this in the house, above the mantle," He remarked placidly. "Looks a little rusted—wish I had _my_ old sword, but I guess this thing'll work." He glanced at her. "What?"

Emma had been staring. She'd never seen Neal in—_that _kind of clothing, breeches, jerkin, a long cape. He looked like a huntsman or a disguised prince in a fairy story. It made her mouth go dry. When she first found out that Neal was Baelfire, the son of Rumplestiltskin, she couldn't imagine her first love from _that_ place—he was just too…modern. But seeing him in those clothes…she could well believe that this was his home.

Neal rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "I used to wear this kinda thing all the time," He said, a little defensively. "I know it looks weird, but—"

"It doesn't," Emma interrupted without thinking. "It looks—good. _Really_ good." He blinked at her in surprise and she turned away quickly, before she could flush or say something stupid again.

"You look good too," Neal replied mildly. "Love the corset."

"Ugh. It's stabbing me in the spleen," Emma complained. "I can't believe women actually had to wear these."

"To be fair, from what I've heard, your mom was pretty good at shirking tradition," Neal commented, respectfully looking away as she attempted to pull her dress up her chest. "Anyway, hopefully it won't be for too long. We find my old man, figure out how to open the time portal, and it's back to Storybrooke and comfortable jeans again."

Emma stilled. "I hear horses," She said nervously, pulling up the hood of her cloak. She pulled him into the bushes, behind a tree, as another carriage careened down the road. The soldiers surrounding halted their horses and Emma licked her lips.

"Regina again?" She mumbled nervously.

"Different carriage," Neal whispered back.

The carriage door opened and Emma started when David Nolan stepped out. Her heart pounded as he strode forward, examining a tree in the middle of the road.

"Worry not!" He called over his shoulder. "It's but a fallen tree."

Emma gasped. "That's—"

"Charming," Neal muttered. "Your dad. We should go."

He pulled her slightly to get her moving, but Emma couldn't resist. She knew what this was—this was the moment. This was the moment her parents met for the first time. Emma looked upwards and to her delight, there was Snow, standing in a tree, readying herself to pounce stealthily onto Charming's carriage.

"Emma," Neal hissed. She nodded impatiently at him, suddenly desperate to see this play through—but in her haste, she leaned back, and a branch snapped from underneath her.

The noise startled Snow, who put too much weight on a dead limb. The tree branch cracked under her feet and Emma's mother tumbled to the ground. Panicked, Emma whipped her head back towards Charming.

"Look at these markings," Charming said with concern. "This tree didn't fall. It's been cut. It's an ambush!"

"We need to get this log moved—now!" One of the soldiers ordered.

Emma desperately turned towards Snow. _Come on, come on—attack the carriage! Steal the ring!_ But Snow had retreated into the forest, her plan gone awry. Emma watched her disappear into the greenery, her stomach twisting.

"What's wrong?" Neal asked sharply.

"That bandit was Snow White," Emma gulped. "This was the moment my parents first met."

"Oh, _crap_."

XXXX

"Look, we just gotta keep calm," Neal ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

"Keep calm?!" Emma thundered. "My parents—their sweet, adorable, fated true love meeting was interrupted—and now _I'm_ never going to be born!"

"We can't panic, okay?" Neal placed his hands on her shoulders. "We just gotta keep calm and we'll get this figured out."

"You can say that, _your_ possible existence isn't at stake!" Emma retorted.

"Well, my parents met via arranged marriage. The only thing that would've stopped _that _meeting is if one of my grandparents were a goat short on the dowry," Neal said practically and Emma glared at him for daring to try and make her laugh.

"Hilarious," She snapped. "You're a real comedian."

"Look," Neal sighed as they entered a clearing. "See that castle? That's the Dark One's castle—we just find him, figure out a way to fix all this—and everything gets back to normal. If there's one thing that man knows, it's how to utilize a loophole."

Emma gazed at the distant castle, twisting her lips at the dark walls and gloomy exterior. "A little more imposing than a pawnshop," She folded her hands across her chest and Neal nodded in agreement.

"So what do we do now?" Emma turned towards Neal. "Knock on the door? Say, 'hey, we're from the future?'"

Neal shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you better go," He said after a long moment. "It's probably best I don't see the Dark One…you know how it is with me and him…we don't want to screw this up even _more_."

"Funny you should mention that," A cackling voice interrupted. "Seeing as I'm _fairly_ sure we've never met."

Emma's mouth fell open. Out of nowhere, a small, leather clad creature had appeared before her, green, gold, and glittering. He was a man—sort of—that seemed to be _dripping _in magic and mischief, looking like a strange cross between an imp in a fairy tale book and David Bowie. His eyes were particularly disconcerting with their lizard-like appearance and Emma tried to process the vision before her. He giggled shrilly and Emma nearly fell over in her shock—this _couldn't_ be the debonair, quiet, and subtle Mr. Gold!

But it certainly could be Rumplestiltskin.

Neal had gone silent, looking at the Dark One with a mixture of sadness and hatred. It was in that instant, Emma realized that it was this version of Gold, this strange caricature of a man, that had dropped Neal in a swirling vortex, that let him grow up alone in a world without magic. Neal had forgiven Mr. Gold for this—had he forgiven Rumplestiltskin?

"Well, well, well," Rumplestiltskin pranced around the two of them, examining them with scientific interest. "I have to wonder if I should turn you both into snails for trespassing—but I won't deny I _am_ curious about who you are and what you want. Not many approach the Dark One's castle without a little bit of desperation in their souls." He added a flourish to the end of his sentence and Neal's lip curled.

"Well, we are desperate," Emma took a deep breath. "And we need your help."

"Of _course_ you do," Rumplestiltskin sniggered. "But the question is—why should I care? What's in it for me?"

Emma glanced at Neal frantically who shook his head in response. But she couldn't see another way—there was no gold, no magical items, nothing that would tempt or sway Rumplestiltskin to assist them.

Except one thing.

"Your son," Emma exhaled. "If you don't help us, you'll never see your son again."

Rumplestiltskin froze. His eyes narrowed and his demeanor became much more threatening. He stepped towards her menacingly.

"What do you know of my son?" He demanded.

"His name is Baelfire," Emma avoided looking Neal in the eyes but she could sense the anger and displeasure rolling off him like waves. "You're planning to enact a curse in the hopes of reuniting with him."

Rumplestiltskin stepped nearer. "Who told you that?" He wanted to know. "What are you—some kind of witch?"

"No, I'm not a witch," Emma said impatiently. "I'm the one who breaks the curse so you can find him. I'm the product of true love."

His eyes widened. "But that's speculation. Part of my plans—but I haven't done it—"

"You will, and you will succeed," Emma said firmly.

"If that's true, then that means…" Rumplestiltskin started to say.

"Yes," Neal finally broke in. "We're from the future. Glad you caught on." He shot Emma a dirty look. She pressed her lips together—she hadn't exactly seen Neal coming up with any stellar ideas!

"So you need my help," Rumplestiltskin said thoughtfully. "This day just keeps getting more and more interesting. You need my help? Then answer me one question."

"What?" Emma said uncomfortably.

_"Do I find my son_?"

Neal pointedly looked away. Emma cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Y-yes," She said hesitantly.

"Bae?" Rumplestiltskin asked eagerly. "I find Bae? How?"

"Well—" Emma started.

"Wait! Don't tell me!" Rumplestiltskin threw up his hands like a child being denied a birthday present. "If I succeeded, I don't want anything in my head that might throw it off."

Emma coughed. "It might already kind of be thrown off."

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes. "You've changed things! _What have you done?!"_

XXXX

Emma had never set foot in the Dark Castle, but she wasn't particularly surprised when it appeared to be a larger version of Mr. Gold's pawnshop. There were artifacts and curious items stashed everywhere, but rather than tripping all over them, they were easily spaced out. She expected more cobwebs and dust, seeing as that fit the idea of a spooky evil castle, but it seemed rather clean to her.

Neal had apparently forgiven her for spilling the beans, but the warning in his eyes told her not to say another word about Baelfire. She had to agree with him—who knows _what_ this strange imp man would do if he found out that the man before him was his very own son.

"Thank you, Mr. G—Rumplestiltskin, for believing us," Emma said to the sorcerer as they strode down his long hall. "I know that time travel is hard to swallow."

"Hm," Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Hard to swallow, yes, but I _suppose_ not inconceivable, if the creator of the spell was very desperate and very stupid."

"Well, that about sums it up," Neal remarked dryly and Rumplestiltskin cast a speculative glance towards him.

"I know _she_ is the Savior," He remarked with another high-pitched giggle. "But who _exactly_ are you?"

Neal stiffened. "Just a peasant you once screwed over," He said coldly.

"Mm, that could be any number of people," Rumplestiltskin sniggered to himself and Emma let out an exhalation of relief that he was not pursuing the subject.

"Oh, Rumplestiltskin, you're back—" A pleasant voice greeted behind them and Emma couldn't resist a grin at the expression that fell over Neal's face.

Belle was standing before them, wearing a simple blue dress, her lovely brown curls tied with a ribbon. She looked at them curiously and Emma couldn't help a laugh at the expression on Neal's face, which read purely, _How did __**she**__fall for_ _**him**_?!

"Belle," Neal said thunderstruck.

Belle cocked her head. "Do we know each other?"

"No, you don't," Emma quickly stepped in. "Mr.—Rumple—the Dark One told us about you."

A smile crept on Belle's face. "Did he?"

The Dark One went from powerful sorcerer to outraged middle schooler in literal seconds, shooting Emma an irritated expression.

"No!" Rumplestiltskin interjected hastily. "Go away and read a book or whatever it is you like to do. Come back and clean later."

"You _could_ ask nicely," Belle pointed out.

"I could also turn you into a toad!" Rumplestiltskin retorted, but somehow the comment fell flat—it felt more like he was being impressive for Neal and Emma's sake, than if he actually meant it.

Clearly Belle agreed, as she shot him a dry look that indicated he would do no such thing, before calmly trotting off. Despite Neal's dour outlook on the whole affair, even he couldn't resist a smile towards Emma, which made her feel rather triumphant. Now at least he understood her desire to see Charming and Snow meet for the first time.

Emma shook her head. "It's a miracle you two fell for each other," She muttered, intending on being quiet, but apparently Rumplestiltskin had the ears of a rabbit.

"_What_?!" He fairly yelped. "First you tell me you've wrecked the timestream, now you're telling me I fall for the help?"

Neal shot a dirty look towards Emma that said _shut up, please, are you trying to screw up more fairytale romances? _"Anyway," He cleared his throat. "About _her _parents—we need to get them back together."

"And who are they?" Rumplestiltskin arched an eyebrow.

"Snow White and Prince Charming," Emma replied.

"Prince Charming?" Rumplestiltskin snorted.

"His real name is Prince James—well, David technically, but—"

"King George's son? Whose wedding I've just arranged?" Rumplestiltskin folded his arms and glared at her.

"That's what we're telling you," Emma said impatiently. "That marriage isn't supposed to happen because the ring he was going to give her gets stolen by Snow."

"It's quite the tale you're spinning," Rumplestiltskin said frankly. Emma noticed he'd begun to cast strange glances at Neal. She gulped nervously.

"Here, let me show you," She said, anxious to keep Neal out of the sorcerer's brain. "It's in the book." She cleared her throat, ready to start reading aloud—but to her unpleasant surprise, the pages were blank.

"What the—Neal!" Emma said in a panic and Neal flipped through it.

"It's all gone," He exhaled slowly. "Anything that was supposed to happen after they've met has disappeared…"

"The ripple effect," Rumplestiltskin fingered the edges of the pages with his lithe fingers and Neal jerked away from the book. "Once you change something in the past, anything from that point forward becomes uncertain. The future, as you can see…is a blank page."

"We need to get Snow to steal that ring so we can put their story back on track again!" Emma said urgently.

Rumplestiltskin smiled slyly. "You're in luck. There's a ball tonight at King Midas' castle. Prince James will be there—and so will his ring."

"Okay," Neal said, taking charge. "So we'll get your mom there—"

"We don't even know where she is!" Emma interjected.

"Allow me," Rumplestiltskin made a complicated little gesture towards a foggy crystal on the table.

Emma leaned in with a gasp. "There she is! Who is she with?" Snow appeared to be talking with an old sailor, who was shaking his head in apparent annoyance.

Neal sucked in his breath. "That's Blackbeard," He reported. "She's trying to buy passage on his ship—doesn't look like he's going for it, not without that ring…"

Rumplestiltskin glanced at Neal critically. "You're familiar with him?" He asked suspiciously. "I suppose you traverse in pirate circles, hm?"

Neal ignored him. Emma nudged Neal's elbow.

"Can you help us?" She asked Rumplestiltskin anxiously, when Neal did not respond.

"Help you?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "I can work on getting your portal to the future open again, but getting your parents together? You made that mess, dearie. Only you know what you did. Now go undo it."

"Fine," Neal said tightly. "Can we at least get some supplies here? A better sword, maybe?"

Rumplestiltskin waved them away. "Belle will show you to my storage rooms," He snapped his fingers and in a puff of smoke, the aforementioned maid appeared, coughing slightly.

She narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. "I told you not to do that. Calling me gets me here just as quickly."

Belle turned to them both. "Follow me. We'll get you sorted."

XXXX

"It's a bit of a mess here," Belle said apologetically. "I haven't cleaned out all of the spare bedrooms, and every time I try, Rumplestiltskin makes a new mess." The room she led them into was decked with armory, swords, daggers, crossbows, everything they could possibly need. Neal picked up a curved sword, much like the blade he used in Neverland, and glanced at it approvingly.

"I don't suppose you have any nine millimeters?" Emma queried dryly, but Belle only quirked her head in confusion. Neal smiled a little as Emma crossed the room, examining different types of daggers.

"Are you going into battle?" Belle asked curiously as Neal gently fingered the blade. It was still very sharp.

"Maybe," He admitted to her. "Hopefully not." He opened up a chest and started digging through it, trying to find a sheath with a shoulder strap—and stopped short.

This was a trunk of his old clothes.

His heart lurched. He gently lifted up an old pale blue tunic—he used to wear that on bright autumn days, when it was cool but clear enough for a romp in the forest. Digging further, he found a small tan shawl, rough around the edges, but still soft. His mother had made that for him, ages ago—he barely remembered her face, but he remembered sinking his face into its softness.

"Those aren't weapons," Belle said firmly. "You shouldn't go through those—I think they're private."

Neal glanced at her. "Yeah, sorry," He put them away, shutting the chest with a decisive snap, locking away any good memories or nostalgia he had of that time.

"Are you all right?" She asked cautiously. "Have you…met Rumplestiltskin before?"

"You could say that," Neal muttered, kicking the chest away. He picked up a crossbow, but to his disappointment, it appeared to be broken.

"Me and him—we made a deal. And he…" Neal sighed, remembering the common adage of their land, 'no one breaks a deal with Rumplestiltskin'. "Well, I should've known better. Power is more important to him than anything else."

"I…I don't think that's true," Belle replied hesitantly. "I mean—I once thought the same thing. But nowadays, maybe…maybe there's more to it. I've often wondered about those clothes—they're for a child, you know. At first I thought it was someone he'd killed but…sometimes I wonder if they were for his child."

Neal averted his gaze. "You should ask him," His voice cracked a little at the words.

Belle considered. "Maybe I will."


	3. Chapter 3

"It is so weird seeing Belle and Mr. Gold like this," Emma remarked dryly as they reviewed their inventory together. The aforementioned couple were noticeably absent, but Neal was uneasy.

"Yeah," He agreed a little brusquely. "Kinda mystified how Belle fell for the old man—especially looking and acting like _that_." He thrust a few knives roughly into the bag and Emma watched him carefully.

"You're kinda on edge," She noted. "Everything okay?"

"I just don't like being here," Neal told her, slinging the bag across his shoulder. "Doesn't exactly bring back happy memories."

Emma twisted her lips. "I thought you and Mr. Gold…sort of worked things out."

Neal raised and lowered one shoulder. "I don't know. He…asked me to come to his wedding. He and Belle are getting married later in the evening…guess I'll miss it after all."

Emma pursed her lips. "Now you're being negative. Weren't you telling me just a little while ago that everything was going to be fine and we were going to get out of here, no problem?"

Neal shrugged. "I don't think I was gonna go to that wedding anyway. What's the point?"

Emma's brow furrowed. "What's the point? It's your Dad's wedding. I'm sure he wants you there."

"Well, I don't know if I want to be there," Neal said peevishly. "Just because we've gotten past all the crap he put me through, doesn't mean I'm ready to play happy families, okay? Just drop it, Emma." He stormed past her and out of the room, nearly running headlong into Belle.

Belle had an odd look on her face and he wondered how much she heard. "Rumplestiltskin was asking for you," She cleared her throat. "Have you come up with a plan?"

"Sort of," Emma joined them, casting a reproachful glance towards Neal. She heaved a sigh that seemed to indicate that their conversation was far from over. "All right," She cleared her throat. "So what exactly is the plan?"

"The plan is to do what we do best," Neal announced, striding down the hallway. "Get that ring from Charming, get it to your mom, get Charming to come _after_ us, and hello happy ending."

"All right," Emma said slowly. "A heist. Least that's in my comfort zone—more or less, anyway. Where are we going to find David?"

"Well…" Neal stopped at a stray mirror. He pulled the curtain off and it revealed Midas' castle, illuminated with light. They could see carriage after carriage, the prime of nobility, ready to celebrate the union between Princess Abigail and Charming.

Emma's lips twisted. "We're gonna sneak into a heavily guarded castle? Great. Should be a cinch."

"Just your average cocktail party," Neal grinned at her. "Remember the museum gala we broke into in Seattle? Just like that—only with a fairytale twist."

"We nearly got busted in Seattle," Emma pointed out dryly. "That's why we said we'd never do another con in high society again. Too dangerous, too much security."

"What's life without a little risk, huh?" Neal shrugged carelessly and Belle quickly covered the mirror once more. "Besides, we're not kids anymore, Emma. We'll be able to pull this off better."

Emma sighed. "All right. But sneaking in will be a neat trick. Those clothes you snuck from that peasant cabin aren't exactly black tie. We'll have to come in through the window—maybe the servant's entrance?"

"I believe _I _can help with that," A sing-song voice remarked cheerily.

Emma and Neal turned to find Rumplestiltskin behind them, smiling slyly. "I don't like leaving things to chance," He informed them. "Which is why I've brought you both _these_." With a flourish, he withdrew two invitations. Emma took them, frowning a little.

"Well, that makes getting in a little easier," Neal crossed his arms. "And you've figured out how to open the portal, right?"

"There's a powerful wand which I, er, came to possess," Rumplestiltskin smirked and Neal's lip curled. "Legend says, it can recreate any magic that's ever been wielded. Now with a little work, I can use it to recreate whatever portal brought you here."

"Please do it quickly," Emma said urgently. "We'll be in and out before you know it. I want to get the hell out of here."

"No kidding," Neal said darkly, shooting Rumplestiltskin a sidelong glance. The two of them turned to make their way towards the exit when Rumplestiltskin stopped them.

"Wait. Not like that," He giggled maniacally and with a deep flourish, Neal and Emma were enveloped in thick red smoke. Emma found herself wearing a deep red ballroom gown that swished around her ankles, her hair caught up in an intricate updo. She inhaled sharply when she saw Neal, looking particularly handsome wearing a formal brown jacket. The buttons were encased with gold and curiously, she thought she saw curious designs on the etchings of his vest—spinning wheels and stars. Neal did not look particularly happy about this little makeover but his eyes widened when he took in Emma's full appearance.

"The savior can't come this far and not play princess for a day," Rumplestiltskin said smugly.

"We're not supposed to stick out," Neal said in annoyance. "Barring your fun with dramatics, could you make us a little less conspicuous?"

"Please," Rumplestiltskin snorted. "It's a miracle the timeline hasn't imploded already. I've glamoured your features—no one will recognize you in the future." His gaze fell on Neal once more, giving him that curious, unsettling look.

Belle smiled at them. "Good luck. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"I suggest you get going," Rumplestiltskin advised. "Before Snow White figures out a different way to get out of here. Once they're back on track, everything else will be too."

XXXX

"Just when I thought the clothes here couldn't get any worse," Emma grumbled as she and Neal made their way into the ballroom. It wasn't that the dress was _uncomfortable_, but she felt ridiculous. She'd never been a poofy dress sort of girl and she couldn't imagine how bizarre she looked.

Neal glanced at her. "I dunno. You wear 'princess' pretty good. Kinda makes me wonder what would have happened if we'd grown up here."

Emma blinked. "Well, it's not like we would've met," She pointed out. "Weren't you born hundreds of years before everyone else?"

"Good point," Neal acknowledged. "And you'd be a princess. I'd be a peasant spinner's son. Probably wouldn't have worked out." His eyes crinkled as he smiled wryly. Emma glanced around the ballroom—what _would_ it have been like to grow up in a place like this? So full of beauty, of magic, of danger? It was unlike anything she'd ever known and yet, a part of her rather longed for it.

At any rate, she would've grown up beloved and cherished.

Someone, dressed head to toe in gold and wearing a heavy crown approached them. "Greetings," He acknowledged them cordially. "I am King Midas, father of the bride. Who do I have the honor to welcome into my home?"

_Oh, crap_. In all their preparations, they'd forgotten pseudonyms.

Neal looked panicked. "I'm—Prince—"

A name popped into her head. "Caspian!" She interjected. "Prince Caspian." She noticed a dark-haired girl glance at them with a peculiar expression on her face.

"And I'm Princess…" Emma thought frantically of princess names—_Snow White, Belle, Ariel—damn it_!

"Leia," She spluttered. "Princess Leia." She curtsied politely and Neal bowed, shooting her an exasperated look.

"I'm honored to have you both," King Midas said solemnly. He turned towards his valet. "Announce Prince Caspian and Princess Leia!"

"Caspian and Leia, seriously?" Neal muttered to Emma _sotto voce_.

"I didn't see you coming up with any brilliant aliases," Emma returned through gritted teeth.

Neal's eyes rolled towards the heavens. "We are _so_ going to implode the timeline," He told the ceiling blandly.

Emma took his arm. "C'mon. We need to find David and get that stupid ring." Her eyes flicked across the room. "There! He's with Kathryn—or Abigail, or whatever her name is. Is she wearing it?"

Neal squinted. "Can't tell. C'mon. We need to get a closer look." He placed a hand on the small of Emma's back, leading her towards the dance floor.

She stared at him in confusion. "You can't be serious…"

"Quick, subtle way to get to them," Neal affirmed, taking her other hand. "Shall we dance, princess?" He grinned at her playfully and Emma was struck by the thought that she'd never been able to resist those dimples. Not since the first moment they met.

Emma's lips pursed. "Since when do peasant spinner's sons know how to waltz?" She said faux haughtily, her eyes twinkling.

"Uh, have you met my dad?" Neal returned. "No son of Rumplestiltskin's would _ever_ not learn how to waltz." He swept her onto the dance floor and to Emma's absolute shock, he waltzed with the rest of the nobility like a professional. Emma did her best to keep up with his graceful movements, but probably stepped on his feet more times than were appropriate. Neal was smiling at her, that soft little smile he only gave to her, and Emma's heart began to pound. Neal always surprised her, always gave her the gift of the unexpected. Dancing with him was no different—it made her head spin and her heart leap.

"Admit it," Neal smirked. "This is nice."

Emma tilted her head defiantly. "Okay," She agreed. "If _you_ admit that you actually want to go to your dad's wedding."

Neal groaned. "Not this again…"

"Your dad struck the lottery with Belle," Emma said firmly. "And they are completely crazy about each other. True love, I might add, which doesn't come around that often. There's no one in the entire world that Gold wants to see there than you."

Neal's expression became muted. "And what then? I just forgive and forget everything that happened between us? Emma, it's never gonna be the same as it was growing up here, not between me and him at least. We've gotten better since Neverland. Isn't that enough?"

Emma exhaled, catching her breath as they twirled across the room. "Forgiveness doesn't mean that all the mistakes are suddenly erased," She told him. "It doesn't mean that it's all okay. Forgiveness says it matters. Forgiveness says it hurt, but I'm letting it go. I'm not letting it define me anymore."

His expression shifted and Emma knew he was thinking of how he'd left her, abandoned her for her great destiny and his own fear of magic. Without thinking, her hand drifted up from his arm to touch his cheek in comfort. She met his dark eyes and suddenly she felt eighteen again.

Emma quickly looked away. "Charming's disappeared," She said swiftly, pausing their dance and taking a glass of champagne from a servant. "Wait—there he is!" Sure enough, David had returned, tucking something in his pocket. Neal and Emma shared a look of understanding.

"All right," Neal affirmed. "Follow my lead." He headed towards David boldly, putting on his salesman smile, the hokey grin he gave every convenience store owner or night-time guard, right before he picked their pocket.

"Your majesty," Neal greeted him jovially, patting his shoulder. "Let me offer my congratulations for this marriage and wish you good fortune and prosperity."

Charming glanced at him warily. "Thank you. I'm sure we'll have a lifetime of happiness." His words were rather sardonic.

Emma smiled brightly. "We're just _so_ excited for you, your highness," She gushed. "Truly, it's a match made in heaven!" She giggled and tottered slightly, splashing the contents of her champagne flute all over him.

"Oh forgive me!" She cried out. "I do apologize, Prince James, I believe I've had too much to drink!"

"My clumsy fiancée," Neal smiled patronizingly, withdrawing a handkerchief and attempting to dry Charming off. "I guess she's let the celebration get the best of her, please accept our apologies!"

"Don't worry about it," Charming uncomfortably shrugged Neal off. "It doesn't make a difference, really…" He sighed a little and bowed shortly to them, walking away.

Emma turned towards Neal, a question in her gaze. He grinned at her, Charming's ring between his fingers. He slipped it to her easily.

"Now for phase two," Neal murmured. "Getting his attention and running like Hell. We—"

Before Neal could finish his sentence, the doors to the ballroom flung open. Regina strode forward, in full queen regalia, party-goers scattering before her in fear. King Midas stiffened but a mask of cordiality enveloped his features and he went to greet her formally.

"What a pleasure, my queen," He bowed. "I—thank you, for honoring my daughter with your presence."

Regina smiled silkily. "And thank _you_, for your generous hospitality. I hope you don't mind, I brought some friends." Her black guards followed her entrance and Emma swallowed.

"Regina's here," She whispered urgently. "That's not good…not part of the plan…"

"With any good con, there's a time to plan and a time to improvise," Neal said back to her. "C'mon, Emma—nothing's changed, we have to get your dad's attention…"

But Emma had frozen. Her heart had stopped when the leader of the black knights had removed his helmet, scanning the party coldly.

_Graham._

"What is it?" Neal wanted to know. "What are you looking at? Emma!"

"Hey!" Charming shouted. He started to stride across the room towards them, face full of fury. "You two—come here!"

"Shit," Neal swore. "Looks like he's on to us—Emma, we need to go—now!"

Emma couldn't speak. It was Graham, _Graham_, living and breathing, staring at her with great suspicion as Charming barreled towards them. Adrenaline taking over, she broke away from Neal, running towards the huntsman, grabbing his hand.

"You have to come with me, now!" She shouted.

Graham stared at her. "Who—who are you?" He asked falteringly.

"Graham, please!" Emma begged. "You have to trust me—I can save you! We need to get Snow White and—"

"_What _did you say?"

Regina stepped in front of Graham. She licked her lips. "Well, well, well. A friend of Snow White's, are we?"

"Emma, run!" Neal shouted, dodging Charming's furious blow and ducking behind a bewildered party-goer. "I'll get the ring to Snow White!" Emma gripped the ring tightly in her palm, as Charming followed Neal's bluff, chasing him out of the ballroom.

"You're not going anywhere," Charming shouted, close behind Neal's heels. Emma attempted to make a break for it and was promptly snatched by Graham.

Emma turned towards the Evil Queen desperately. "Regina, I—"

"Is a bit informal, wouldn't you say?" Regina demanded coolly. "Show some respect. It's _your Majesty_."

Emma tried to break free from Graham but his grip was like iron. She looked at him imploringly but his face was impassive. Her heart sank. What had she been thinking? He didn't know who he was.

"You're not going anywhere," Regina said calmly. "Until you tell me where Snow White is."

Emma remained silent. Neal had disappeared.

"And here I thought we were becoming old friends," Regina smirked. "Very well. Take her to the dungeons. Let's see if a night in the cold and damp loosens her tongue."


End file.
